Chapter 6: Lose
When Dou Yu was giving his motivational speech, Ai Qingyuan remained unmoved.
It wasn’t for the same reasons as Xie Xizhao—his reason for not wanting to listen was simple:
It wasn’t necessary.
Many people thought he was laid-back, but in reality, he had started learning to dance as soon as he could walk. His dedication to this craft far exceeded 99% of people.
In his view, all those who didn’t put in effort and those without talent could be collectively classified as useless. They should switch careers as early as possible. Dou Yu’s earnest preaching was completely unnecessary.
The moment he heard Shenghong’s name, he stood up.
At the same time, the other trainees from Shenghong stood up as well.
They were all wearing matching stage outfits in black and white. Naturally, the most well-designed and eye-catching one belonged to Ai Qingyuan. Besides him, two other trainees with decent potential also stood out in their attire.
The group walked onto the stage, lined up in a row, and greeted the audience in unison. At first glance, their presence completely overpowered all the previous groups.
Dou Yu paused for a moment with the microphone in hand before chuckling. “I should probably avoid favoritism for this group, right?”
With just one sentence, he openly acknowledged that he was also an artist under Shenghong, making no attempt to hide it.
Beside him, Li Lin asked, “Have you interacted with the trainees before, Teacher Dou?”
“I’ve seen them a few times in the practice room,” Dou Yu replied, “but we haven’t really talked much.”
“Well, today’s a good chance to chat,” Li Lin said with a smile.
The brief exchange came to an end, and the stage lights dimmed. The trainees from Shenghong assumed their opening formation. Before long, the accompaniment began to play.
Almost the instant the music started, several trainees in the audience raised their heads in surprise.
“Did I hear that right? This melody is…”
“…‘Chronic Illness’?”
“The debut song of Teacher Dou—Chronic Illness? No way!”
Almost the moment these words were spoken, the entire venue erupted into chaos.
At the mentors’ table, Dou Yu stared at the young man in front of him, who remained perfectly still, his sharp gaze unwavering. For the first time, a genuine hint of admiration appeared in Dou Yu’s usually impassive eyes.
—
Chronic Illness—the debut song of Dou Yu, the current top-tier idol. Produced by Shenghong, with lyrics and composition handled by the best producers in the country. The song had an intense style, paired with powerful choreography, making it the quintessential idol track.
Dou Yu had debuted as a solo artist, excelling in vocals, rap, and dance, though he leaned more toward being a vocal performer. Back then, Chronic Illness had dominated the music charts for nearly 160 consecutive days, largely due to its catchy melody and the song’s high-difficulty yet ethereal vocal transitions.
Shenghong had now boldly reworked this song.
The original solo dance routine had been transformed into a group performance, yet the transitions and formations blended seamlessly without feeling out of place.
On the contrary, the trainees from Shenghong had an impressively high average level of dance skill, making even the most complex formations flow beautifully. Compared to them, the previous groups now seemed almost like children playing make-believe.
The stage was filled with the rapid beat of the percussion, reverberating through the venue. Everyone fell silent. When the chorus—the most technically demanding part with its intricate vocal runs—approached, the entire audience collectively held their breath.
The choreography was strong. The adaptation looked outstanding. But what about Shenghong’s notoriously weak vocals?
At some point, someone had stepped into the center of the formation.
The moment he adjusted his earpiece and raised his gaze, a shiver ran through the crowd.
“The chorus… Ai Qingyuan is taking it.”
Someone murmured in disbelief.
The next second, the young man’s voice rang out—slightly hoarse and cool from the intensity of the dance, yet unwavering as he cut into the accompaniment with perfect precision.
When the performance ended, the entire venue fell into absolute silence.
Seated at the highest position, Xie Xizhao clicked his tongue regretfully and took another sip of water.
—
As the song concluded, Ai Qingyuan’s face remained expressionless, but his teammates beside him were visibly excited.
After practicing for so long, they had delivered an almost flawless performance—an extraordinary feat for a live stage.
The mentors did not disappoint either, shedding their earlier aloofness and offering continuous praise.
Among them, Ni Xin was particularly thrilled.
In the midst of the mentors’ compliments, aside from Ai Qingyuan, his own name had been mentioned as well. It was just a simple remark—”Your vocal tone is quite good”—but it was enough to make Ni Xin elated.
He hated losing, especially to people he looked down on. This acknowledgment, however brief, proved his strength.
Having talent made him infinitely superior to a frail, decorative vase.
Holding his head high with pride, he listened as the mentors announced the final rankings.
“I will be the one to announce the final grades,” Qiu Xuerui said, taking the microphone. “Since Teacher Dou has voluntarily stepped back to avoid bias, the results were decided by Teacher Lan, Linlin, and me.”
She first called out two names. “These two are rated C.”
Then, Ni Xin heard his own name.
“Ni Xin, your rating is B.”
Ni Xin let out a breath of relief.
He wasn’t one of the company’s top priorities, nor had he expected to receive an A. A B-rating was exactly what he had anticipated. More importantly, it was a ranking that placed him above a significant portion of the trainees.
He thanked the mentors, then lifted his chin arrogantly, looking toward the highest seat.
When Ni Xin first saw Xie Xizhao seated in the center position, he had been shocked.
But now, the thrill of victory was swelling in his chest.
So what if he sat higher?
Without real skill, he was nothing more than a ridiculous clown.
Completely lost in his own satisfaction, Ni Xin was already imagining what he would say when he kicked Xie Xizhao out of their dorm. He was so absorbed in his fantasy that he didn’t even notice Ai Qingyuan’s ranking had been announced.
Unsurprisingly, Ai Qingyuan’s rating was an A.
Everyone present felt envious, but no one objected—his ability spoke for itself. Especially when they learned he had choreographed the routine himself, all that remained was admiration.
Yet, Ai Qingyuan himself showed no sign of happiness.
As the team captain, he stepped forward to collect the ranking sheet. Just as he turned, Dou Yu called out to him.
“The dance was excellent, and your vocals were solid too,” Dou Yu said warmly. “Your breath control while dancing could use a little more work, but no rush—just keep practicing consciously.”
Ai Qingyuan’s expression darkened.
No one else seemed to notice—or if they did, they didn’t care.
He had messed up the vocal run in the chorus.
Twice.
—
Returning to his seat, Ai Qingyuan felt the mistake stuck in his throat like a bone.
The performances on stage resumed, but he couldn’t focus at all. There was no real competition for him here. He knew his true rival sat much higher—at the mentors’ table. Dou Yu.
A faint noise came from behind him. He turned to see the person behind him playing with dice.
Ai Qingyuan: “…”
Was this guy three years old? Who needed a toy to pass the time during performances?
He sighed and asked, “What did you roll this time?”
Xie Xizhao hadn’t expected Ai Qingyuan to speak to him first. He paused for a moment before replying, “Nothing, just playing around.”
Ai Qingyuan let out a cold laugh.
Oh? Just playing around?
Wasn’t that exactly how he had played around and stolen his seat too?
Noticing Ai Qingyuan’s mood, Xie Xizhao offered a casual reassurance. “It’s fine. Messing up one vocal run isn’t a big deal. Just practice more, no rush.”
Ai Qingyuan: ?
Excuse me???
“Who the hell is rushing?!” he blurted out.
His voice was loud enough that the people around them turned to stare.
Only then did Ai Qingyuan snap back to his senses, his face darkening like the bottom of a burnt pot.
He didn’t care if his outburst was caught on the recording—it would get edited out later anyway.
But Xie Xizhao?
“Alright, no rush,” Xie Xizhao sighed.
‘Kids these days. Why are they all so stubborn?’
Even with Xie Xizhao’s deliberately accommodating tone, Ai Qingyuan’s expression remained stormy.
He suddenly realized something.
Just one sentence from Xie Xizhao had completely shattered his composure.
Not because Xie Xizhao was anything special, but because he had struck right at his weak spot with pinpoint accuracy.
Ai Qingyuan shut his eyes briefly, forcing himself to regain his calm.
At that moment, another evaluation concluded on stage. Dou Yu picked up the microphone and spoke.
“Next group… Hmm. This is a solo trainee. Xie Xizhao, are you here?”
Ai Qingyuan’s eyes snapped open.
Behind him, Xie Xizhao had already risen to his feet.
The entire venue fell into absolute silence.
—
Although most people, after learning about Xie Xizhao’s status as an outsider and his past experiences, had already written him off as someone just trying to gain clout with his looks…
They couldn’t deny their curiosity.
After all, this was the center position among a hundred contestants.
Was he really that confident in himself? Or was he so desperate for attention that he simply didn’t care about the consequences?
Everyone had their own guesses.
And the moment Xie Xizhao’s name was called, Ji Yan—who had just relaxed after his own performance—felt his nerves tighten all over again.
His thoughts drifted back to that afternoon.
—
Staring at the Excel sheet in front of him and its contents, Ji Yan completely froze.
It took him a long moment before he finally found his voice. “Brother… you can do all of this?”
Xie Xizhao looked at his reaction, his expression turning oddly subtle for a split second before he replied, “Yeah, I know a bit of everything.”
Ji Yan swore that just now, his brother had definitely been about to nod and say, ‘Yeah, I can do all of it.’
Taking a few deep breaths, Ji Yan forced himself to stay calm.
This was exactly why Xie Xizhao had chosen him to review his choices.
After spending all this time together, he had already noticed that Ji Yan, despite his laid-back personality, was incredibly observant. More importantly, he almost never pried into other people’s secrets.
Sure enough, though his face screamed disbelief, Ji Yan still asked, “Brother, then… which one are you going with? Let me take a look?”
Xie Xizhao stood up.
He was undeniably thin, his face always carrying a sickly pallor. But even so, this was already the best-case scenario.
Cases of coma patients regaining consciousness were rare to begin with—let alone cases like Xie Xizhao’s, where he had woken up with almost no major organ or neurological damage. Reports even mentioned that within just three months of waking, he was already able to do light physical activity. His recovery had shocked the entire medical community.
Ji Yan had to admit—Ni Xin wasn’t entirely wrong.
His brother wasn’t exactly suited to be an idol.
Maybe it would’ve been better if he had just gone back to studying mathematics in college, leading a peaceful life and enjoying his second chance.
But all those thoughts vanished the moment he watched Xie Xizhao’s performance.
Xie Xizhao switched off the backing track and asked, “What do you think?”
Ji Yan stayed silent for a long time before finally saying, “Brother.”
“Thank you for coming down to our level to help the less fortunate.” His tone was utterly sincere.
To Ji Yan, every performance of Xie Xizhao’s—whether it fit the typical boy group style or not—was already flawless.
But somehow, Xie Xizhao himself was never satisfied.
“I need to think about it some more,” he said.
Ji Yan frowned. “Other things, sure, but… this? You still think this isn’t good enough?”
What Xie Xizhao had just shown him was a classic singing and dancing routine—traditional in structure, with vocals and choreography, plus a short rap section in the middle. The song choice was from a trending boy group track, and as far as Ji Yan could see, there was nothing to nitpick.
But Xie Xizhao only said, “It’s not stable enough.”
Ji Yan knew what he meant.
“…But, brother, you’re already really stable. No one can expect a live, full-mic singing-and-dancing routine to be perfect. And besides—”
Besides, his brother’s situation was unique. Asking him to have flawless breath control was simply too harsh.
Xie Xizhao didn’t say anything in response.
That night, he just took Ji Yan out for dinner.
—
Up until now, Ji Yan had finally understood why Xie Xizhao had been so nitpicky with him.
Sitting in the C-position came with a price. Someone as strong as Ai Qingyuan could sit there with confidence. But if it were anyone else, there were only two possible reasons.
First, they truly had the strength to back it up and weren’t afraid of challenges. Second, they wanted to gain infamy through controversy.
Because when one’s strength didn’t match their position, it was easy to come off as arrogant. And since most fangirls admired strength, stepping into the spotlight too soon was equivalent to experiencing failure right away—something that severely affected their ability to attract fans.
That was why no one else in the room had done it.
Based on what Ji Yan knew about Xie Xizhao, it was obvious he wouldn’t want to take the controversial route.
Which meant…
He had to be the best.
But.
Ji Yan was deeply worried.
His brother was a complete perfectionist—there was no way he would allow him to go on stage with a performance he wasn’t satisfied with.
What was he supposed to do?
This had been weighing on Ji Yan’s mind ever since he arrived.
If Xie Xizhao could hear his thoughts, he would definitely repeat that same phrase again: “Ji Yan, don’t act like an old father figure when you’re still so young.”
But Xie Xizhao had no such ability, and he had no time for this right now either.
When he stood up from his seat, he felt the stiffness in his shoulders and neck. He was a little helpless at how fragile his original body was and took a moment to mourn his lost system-enhanced physique. Then, he finally stepped onto the stage.
“Xie Xizhao.” Dou Yu deliberately enunciated each syllable of his name. “That’s a really nice name.”
Xie Xizhao figured this part would most likely be edited out, but he still responded seriously, “Mm. My parents gave it to me.”
He paused for a moment, then smiled. “Because when my mom gave birth to me, it happened to be just past midnight. She thought the meaning behind it was beautiful, so she gave me this name.”
From night to day—when he was born, the first thing that greeted him was the morning sun, a symbol of hope.
Dou Yu understood. “They love you very much.”
Xie Xizhao replied, “Yes.”
Since Dou Yu was just making a guest appearance, he wouldn’t have taken the time to learn each contestant’s backstory in detail, nor would he have known just how much weight that simple “yes” carried.
Four years of waiting without giving up—Xie Xizhao knew better than anyone how much his parents loved him.
After their brief small talk, Dou Yu returned to the main topic. “Trainee Xie Xizhao, I just saw that when you chose your seat, you picked the C-position. Can you tell everyone why you made that choice?”
Xie Xizhao hesitated for a moment.
This time, he didn’t take out the dice he had joked about before. Instead, he answered calmly,
“Because out of all the seats, that’s the only one that suits me.”
